We Could Be Heroes
by KitsuneButterfly
Summary: Various shorts about the characters from my  many  playthroughs. Current: Human Mage Death Amell. Again.
1. Triss 1

This is going to end up as the place for various shorts relating to the characters from my various (I think I'm up to 9 now) playthroughs that didn't make it into Band of Misfits.

This particular group of shorts are about my next-to-newest character Trissana, a city elf rogue. The parts/quests of DA:O these shorts focus on/take place in are, in order: Tower of Ishal, Back Alley Justice, Unrest in the Alienage/A Day For Celebration.

Disclaimer: I'm not awesome enough to own Dragon Age or any of its locations, characters, etc.

* * *

"Trissana, watch where you're aiming that thing!" yelped Alistair as a ballista bolt passed inches from his leg.

"Sorry," said the elf rogue with a sheepish look at the elder Grey Warden, who was standing over the body of a dead darkspawn in the Tower of Ishal and coincidentally, right in the line of fire for the ballista Triss had decided to inspect. Quite obviously, an alienage elf like herself had never seen such a thing, and being a person who enjoyed tinkering with machinery, she couldn't help herself when such an interesting new object presented itself for inspecting. However, she hadn't counted on accidentally firing the thing and nearly taking out Alistair. Triss left the ballista alone after that.

* * *

Triss skidded around a corner, her companions hot on her heels. They were being pursued by Denerim's guards yet again. Just as Triss was about to round another corner, she stopped and let out a groan. Around the corner were more guards.

"You're a terrible, thief, you know that?" commented Alistar as the party stopped short just behind or next to Triss.

"You said we needed more money," argued the copper-haired elf.

"I did, didn't I?" said Alistair thoughtfully. "But I didn't mean for you to steal it!"

"Then how do you propose that I go about earning some coin? Do a stint at the Pearl?"

"Er, no…" said Alistair. He had developed a bit of a crush on the elf, and the thought of her working in a brothel made him shudder.

* * *

"You were…engaged?" asked Alistair incredulously as he stared at Triss, who had just finished talking to Shianni about the current state of the alienage.

"Yes…" said Triss slowly. "My betrothed was murdered. That's part of how I ended up in the Grey Wardens. I sort of killed his murderers and got conscripted before I could get hauled off to prison."

"And you never thought to inform me of this over the course of our relationship?" Alistair was a bit irritated, and it came across in his tone.

"In the beginning, it wasn't something that I wanted to think about, much less speak about," said Triss with a sigh. "As time went on and I did my best to forget, I felt as though it was hardly essential information." She paused. "I am sorry, Alistair."

"It's alright," said Alistair, accepting her apology, "but we will talk about this later."

"Very well," said Triss.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid shems," grumbled Triss as she traced patterns sewn into the sheets on her bed in the Arl of Redcliffe's Estate with her finger.

Alistair hadn't heard her use that term in quite some time. That was how he knew something was wrong, if her pose hadn't already given her away – she was sitting on the bed with her knees up to her chest and her chin resting on them as she traced the patterns distractedly with an index finger.

"Hey," said Alistair gently as he took a seat on the bed next to her, "What's wrong. You can tell me, you know. Is it about today, what happened in the alienage?"

Triss sighed. "The alienage brings me memories that I don't want or need. I thought I'd managed to forget…" she trailed off.

"Forget? Your betrothed's murder?" asked Alistair, genuinely curious.

Triss shook her head, causing her still-wet hair to fling a few droplets of water onto Alistair. "Not entirely. I suppose I should tell you why he was murdered before our next visit to the alienage reveals that, as well," she said, her voice suddenly very dry and agitated.

Alistair said nothing, choosing instead to pick up her hand from where it was tracing floral designs and intently study the calluses that had formed from the use of her weapon of choice, the longbow.

Taking that as his way of saying 'continue', Triss did so. "You see, the wedding was interrupted by Bann Vaughan, a horrible, lecherous shem, and his underlings. He took all of the women in the wedding party to his estate, where he proceeded to ravage us one by one. The guards were coming to get me for my turn with the Bann when Soris showed up and tossed me a sword. We killed the guards and ran to Vaughan's room. On the way, we saw my betrothed, Nelaros, being cut down by the captain of the guard. I didn't let him live."

"I killed the Bann and freed the women – well, those that were left; one of my bridesmaids had been murdered as well – and we all left, slaughtering every shem we met along the way," said Triss tiredly. "Nelaros came to save me, to save all of us, and he was killed by a pack of stupid shems. Though I didn't know him for long, I liked him. He was a nice man; he didn't deserve to die like that."

"I kept the rings, mine and his," she said as she tugged on a small chain around her neck, pulling two rings that gently clinked together out of her nightdress. Her voice choked, "All this time."

Alistair easily pulled Triss into his lap and held her close as she finally allowed herself to grieve for everything lost on that day.


	2. Death 1

Kit's Note: This next set of shorts revolves around Death, a human mage. She was my first character to be able to play the DLC with because I made her on my roommate's PS3 (I don't have any of the DLC for my 360 -sob-).

Disclaimer: I'm not awesome enough... etc.

* * *

"Bloody stupid DEMON!" snarled Death as she threw herself from her bed in the apprentice's dormitory, tackling and pinning her friend Jowan. Just as she raised a fireball to shoot at his head, recognition set in. "Oh, hello Jowan," she said, immediately regaining her composure. Much to Jowan's relief, the fireball fizzled out in her palm.

* * *

"I hate demons," groaned Death as she, not for the first time (or second, for that matter) found herself in the fade to hunt one. She gripped her staff tighter and marched determinedly through the spirits that lurked in this particular part of the Fade, ignoring their various cries and conversations.

"Right, you," she said as she finally found the Connor-demon. "You've caused me enough headache. I'm here to end you."

"Oh real-" it started, only to find the sharpened end of her staff, charged with electricity, sticking out of its midsection.

"Yeah really," she said, odd red eyes gleaming wickedly as she threw more power into the electricity that danced on the bladed end of her staff, watching in grim satisfaction as the demon screamed and writhed until it finally died.

* * *

Death groaned. "How long have I been out?" she asked as she ran her fingers through her short, blood-matted black hair. Her whole body was sore and even that simple action was mildly painful.

"Almost a week," said Wynne from somewhere to her left.

Death turned her head to see the elder mage. "Did we win?"

"If you mean 'is the archdemon dead', then yes."

"Excellent," said Death as she turned her head so that she was facing the ceiling once more. "Can you tell me why I hurt all over?"

"According to Alistair, the archdemon threw you through a stone wall. It's a miracle you survived."

"And here I was thinking it sat on me."

* * *

"Why do they call you Death, anyhow?" inquired Alistiar one night as the party was camped just off the road to the Frostback Mountains.

"I was brought to the Circle at a young age," explained Death. "I couldn't have been more than three. Apparently, that was the only word I knew and the only one I would respond to. Maker knows why, though I was told later that when I was found by the Templars I was in a house full of dead bodies – just playing with my dolls, calmly as you please and surrounded by carnage. That might have something to do with it."

"You…" said Alistair slowly, "are very creepy."

"Noted," said Death, red eyes dancing with amusement.

* * *

"Are you… are you an elf?" inquired Alistair as he looked down at the new Warden recruit. She was no taller than an elf – short for one, even – and short-but-shaggy black hair covered her eartips.

"Elf, no. Mage, yes," she said with a wicked grin up at the former Templar trainee who had just been complaining about mages. She could have sworn she heard the words 'why me' in the resulting groan.


	3. Mouse 1

Kit's Note: The only playthrough that I've actually finished... Mouse, the City Elf. I'm actually running him through Awakenings now; I recently acquired the DLC for my 360 so I am a happy furball.

I decided to mix up his origin a bit because, well, that's what I do. I mix things up. Just for fun.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Kit's not awesome enough...

* * *

"Sending one would be less obvious than sending two," said a quiet voice from the back of the crowd. Heads turned to see who had spoken and many gazes rested upon a cloaked elf many knew only as 'Mouse', called so for his ability to go anywhere and his facial tattoos that resembled whiskers. He was a thief, though he stole only from humans and gave to the elves. No guard could catch or trace him.

"Are you volunteering?" asked Duncan as he studied Mouse. He thought he had seen the elf on his way into the alienage, but a second glance had revealed only an empty rooftop.

"Yes," said Mouse as he stepped through the crowd that parted before him. He passed the pair of grooms to stand in front of the Elder and Duncan. "I will go and I will bring the women back."

"Do you need anything?" asked Valendrian.

Mouse shook his head and stepped into the shadows. He was gone.

* * *

Mouse crouched atop a bookcase in Vaughan's chambers, a stolen dagger in his teeth and another in his hand. He didn't like killing, but he could see no other end to this predicament. He had to act quickly or else more elven blood would be spilled. Silently, he dropped from the bookcase to stand behind two lackeys, whose throats he slit simultaneously as he stepped out of the shadows.

Both bodies dropped to the floor with similar gurgles and the Bann's son looked at the tan, brown-haired elven man who had slain his men, shock written all over his face.

* * *

"Bit for your thoughts?" asked Mouse as he flicked a bronze coin at Alistair. The coin tapped the ex-Templar on the cheek, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Just… thinking about Ostagar," sighed Alistair. "So much was lost."

"You're thinking about Duncan again," said Mouse, dark eyes casting a knowing look Alistair's way. "Would you like to talk about it? I've heard that talking about things often helps."

"I-" Alistair started, looking momentarily at the elf before focusing on the campfire in front of him, "Not yet."

"As you wish," said Mouse, retrieving the bit from where it had landed on the grass after bouncing off of Alistair's cheek.

* * *

"What are you going to call him?" asked Alistair as both he and Mouse stared down at the Mabari hound who was currently rubbing up against Mouse's leg in an almost catlike manner.

Mouse thought for a moment. "Cat," he finally said.

Alistair groaned. "That's not funny, Mouse."

* * *

For not the first time that day, Mouse wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew in his choice of opponents. His daggers lay just out of reach and he had been knocked down flat on his back by someone's shield.

Alistair was busy knocking one of Loghain's Warden-hunters about the head with his own shield while Cat assisted Morrigan in the takedown of another. Two had already been dispatched and the last stood over Mouse, sword drawn and looking ready to take the elf's head off.

He was pleasantly surprised when the man dropped his sword and started to fall down onto Mouse, who rolled out of the way. As he rolled, Mouse noted the cause of death as 'dagger to the back of the head'. Snatching his daggers from the floor, Mouse stood and got a good look at his savior – a pretty redheaded chantry sister – before he turned and sank his daggers into the back of a stunned soldier.


	4. Jader 1

I'm baaack! And I did a surprising amount of writing while I was supposed to be doing schoolwork. Heh heh heh...

Most of the stories I've been working on, I need to add more to them before I can call them "long enough" to upload. And I need to figure out how I'm going to handle my DA2 ficlets, of which I have written an unholy quantity.

Anyway... moving on...

Disclaimer: I'm not awesome enough... etc.

* * *

"Jader!" roared knight-commander Gregoir as he brought his fists down on his desk.

The pesky apprentice had managed to run away... again.

Meanwhile, in the forests around Lake Calenhad, the mage-apprentice Jader was running hard, heedless of the branches that whipped at his face and the bushes that snagged his robes. His left arm was held to his chest, broken in the escape. He would heal it later, when he was able to stop and rest.

* * *

"Andraste's frilly nightie, what was THAT?" yelped Jader as he looked upon the body of the creature that he had just slain. Or rather, what was left of it. Walking Bomb spells weren't known for leaving much of the foe behind.

"I think," said Alistair as he picked a piece of fur and Maker-knows-what-else off of his breastplate, "it was a werewolf."

* * *

"If it's any consolation, I commend your actions," said Morrigan as she stepped up behind Jader.

"Yeah, well, you're the only one," grumbled the mage-Warden as he looked down at his scarred palms.

Their group had gotten into a tight spot on the road, drastically outnumbered and outmatched by the darkspawn. They had been losing - badly. Alistiar was down with a cracked skull and Sten was barely hanging on; the qunari had looked like a giant pincushion. Leliana and Zevran were surrounded and had been forced back-to-back while Shale had disappeared under a writhing mass of genlocks and hurlocks. Morrigan, Wynne, and Jader had exhausted their magical energies as well as their supply of lyrium potions.

It was a last resort. Jader had pulled a hunting knife from a sheath at his side and sliced both palms open, his own blood sacrifice enabling him to work blood magic. The darkspawn bent to his will, abandoning their assaults on his companions in favor of attacking one another or throwing themselves off the nearest cliff.

He was sure the looks given to him by his companions would haunt his nightmares for weeks to come. Looks of mistrust, hurt, and anger.

Only Morrigan and his faithful hound remained by his side; the others avoided him as though he had the plague.

* * *

"So," began Alistair, "How did you come to have the name Jader?". He looked to his fellow blond Warden, who was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the tavern table, a mug of ale in his hand.

Jader deadpanned. "Because my parents could never agree on my name, my father got out a map of Thedas and slapped his index finger down on the map. It landed on the 'a' in 'Jader'."

"You're kidding me," said Alistair incredulously at his companion.

"Nope," said Jader as he took a long drink from his mug.

* * *

"I am Riordan, Senior Grey Warden of Jader," said the man who had only moments previously been locked in a cell.

"And I'm Jader, Junior Warden of Ferelden," said Jader with an impish grin.

Behind him, Alistair groaned. Riordan chuckled.


	5. Death 2

More Death! I write more than I upload. I keep forgetting to shuffle my writings around into their respective documents, as I write them... on a forum, actually. Very handy, but very lacking in organization.

Disclaimer: We all know by now that Kitsune isn't cool or awesome enough...

* * *

"Death, come on. We need to- Hey, you're not Death," said Alistair as the woman he had approached from behind turned to face him. While she and his fellow Warden Death Amell did look remarkably alike from their messy black hair to their somewhat catlike facial features, they had very different eyes, which Alistair noticed before the height difference. Death had eyes as red as blood while this woman's eyes were a clear sky blue.

The woman looked amused. "I'm Rowan, Rowan Hawke. Are you really looking for someone named Death?"

"Er, yes," said Alistair. "She looks... a lot like you, actually. I'll just be going now..."

* * *

Loghain looked at his potential opponents; the Warden Death had allowed him to choose his opponent.

There was Alistair, who most certainly wished to kill him in the most brutal manner possible, if the look on his face was anything to go by. However, the boy was little more than an untried pup; hardly a worthy opponent.

He didn't even give the golem a second glance. It would surely pound him to a pulp in one go, and he wanted a fighting chance.

It would make him look even worse to the Landsmeet if he dared pick the Circle mage. She was an old woman, for the Maker's sake!

But the Warden Death, who watched him with odd red eyes... she had been the driving force behind the gathering of a misfit army. She was a mage, and probably knew all kinds of dirty magic tricks, but despite that she was a worthy opponent.

"Warden Death Amell, I choose you as my opponent," announced Loghain.

Death chuckled darkly as she stepped forward. "Very well, good Ser. But I must warn you - you have chosen the most dangerous foe."

* * *

"Hey, I remember you," said Anders cheerfully as he stepped over Templar and darkspawn corpses.

Mhairi looked at the Warden-Commander, confused.

"Anders? Last time I saw you..." Death trailed off, grinning.

"Third floor cleaning cupboard." Anders said, also grinning.

"You spilled the bucket of floor polish on my good shoes."

"Well, you hit me in the face with a mop."

"I couldn't see anything because you had the feather duster in _my _face!"

"I was picking baby spiders out of my hair for a week thanks to you!"

"We were also assigned chamber pot duty for a week," pointed out Death, her grin never wavering and, if possible, getting wider.

"The look on the First Enchanter's face? Worth it."

"Agreed."

* * *

"Congratulations. You made it," said Death, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "Welcome to the Vigil."

The darkspawn stood still and stared at the short, heavily armored, staff-bearing woman seated on the throne, whether from shock or the multitude of paralyze runes on the floor was anyone's guess.

It was then that all hell broke loose. From behind the throne stepped Anders and Velanna, their staffs raised and humming with power.

Courtesy of Death, a dark cloud filled the room, leeching energy from the darkspawn and obscuring the three mages from view. From Anders' staff came a mighty blizzard, accompanied by a thunderstorm from Velanna, to interesting effect. Death then deemed it necessary to add a towering, swirling inferno to the mix. A deadly cocktail of magics, to be sure.

It was a given that the Vigil would be under heavy repairs for some time after the battle; in addition to the damage being caused in the throne room, the Vigil had been riddled with traps and explosives. Most, if not all, of Dworkin's explosives had been placed in the courtyard, buried and just waiting for their sensitive triggers to be trod on. Everyone with some knowledge of traps had been recruited to set them all throughout the Vigil, leading to the throne room.

Death had ordered all of her forces to Amaranthine, leaving only herself, Anders, and Velanna at the keep. Many objected to this; Death told them not to underestimate three powerful mages - one of whom took down the Archdemon, if they would recall.

When the magics cleared, the first wave lay entirely defeated. Well, considering the sheer quantity and lethality of the traps, it was probably the third or fourth, at least.

"Let's throw out some more runes," suggested Death from her place on the throne. She hadn't even needed to move. "Does anyone know anything particularly soul-sucking?"


End file.
